Blood Stained Hooves
by LappaLuxury
Summary: A certain somepony has a secret, how far out of hoof will she let it get?


A Lovely Day for Blood

by Lappa Luxury

Chapter I

"My oh my," Cheerilee thought to herself, "I hate grocery shopping." She was nearly home, and although carrying two full bags of groceries wasn't _that_ difficult, she did not want to be so encumbered. Cheerilee has spent most of her day in her classroom, her favorite pastime. Molding the minds of young ponies was her calling, her special talent. As she neared her house she breathed a sigh of relief, bent down, and, grasping the knob with her teeth, opened the front door of her modest house. She walked right it, knowing the layout so well that she neglected to turn on the light. Suddenly, Cheerilee got an odd feeling – she smelled something, perfume? Abruptly, her legs went weak. A magical glow in front of her face was levitating a moist towel. The pony puzzled at it, began to feel faint, and, as she dropped to the floor, realized with terror that the rag had been soaked in chloroform.

Cheerilee awoke in a daze, groggy from her drug-induced sleep. She looked about – it was her house, but everything in it had been lined in thin transparent plastic. As she attempted to get up, she realized that she, too, was covered in plastic wrap. Confused and afraid, Cheerilee attempted to scream, but her voice remained unheard due to the balled piece of cloth taped into her mouth.

She peered to her side and saw a blue aura emanating from some of the objects on the table next to the one she was strapped to. Her heart raced as a razor sharp scalpel lept from the table and hovered above her face. She mumbled through her gag, "Hmmm ah mmoo?"

"Why, don't you know it is extremely rude to speak with your mouth full?" came the response in a polite, proper, and almost sweet sounding voice.

Cheerily began to cry as she realized who was doing this to her. Just then the blade came down – wincing in pain, Cheerilee kept crying as a single line of blood trailed down her cheek to a flat rectangular piece of glass being magically held to her face. The slide then drifted away to be joined with another plate, sandwiching the drop of blood in crystalline glass.

"I'm quite sorry, but I'm afraid it's time for this little party to end," said the sickly-sweet voice again. The scalpel began to carefully sever limbs from the sweet dark-pink pony's torso, her blood pouring out onto the plastic wrap, her muffled screams attempting to fill the room, but only succeeding in filling the cloth with saliva. As her life came to a painful end Cheerilee stopped screaming, either from losing her will to fight, or from losing most of her blood, and passed out. Her limbs were magically lifted into black trash bags, her torso being cut in twain before being placed in bags itself. As the polite butcher left the house she had six bags in total, each carrying body parts or soiled plastic wrap.

As the mare walked out of the house, near two in the morning, she magically carried all of the bags to a boat at the edge of Ponyville pond. She daintily stepped in and unmoored the boat. Once at the center of the lake she dropped the bags in, weighing them down with the rocks she had brought specifically for that purpose. She was ever so glad that she hadn't gotten blood on her lovely white coat, and her mane looked simply gorgeous in the moonlight. Rarity stared, smiling, at her reflection in the water. Her friends would never know.

Rarity had always been this way – a monster, she called herself. As a child she had squashed bugs for the fun of it, and at seeing her first horror film she had been so excited that her school friends had cast odd looks at her. It was then that she realized she was different, perhaps even superior to them. She was cold as ice inside, without true emotion. She had learned to fake it, a ruse she had perfected by the time she moved to Ponyville. She had opened a fashion boutique there – she knew quite a bit about fashion and figured it would allow her to observe the way the ponies around her acted, thought, and felt. Rarity had never imagined she would end up like this.

It had been an accident, really – she had never meant to kill that less than charming Trixie. Annoyed at her poor sense of style, Rarity had offered "The Great and Powerful Trixie" to her boutique, intending to prank her for her showboating, boasting, and downright lying. When Trixie had shown up, hat and cape as usual, she had gently removed both with magic before allowing Rarity to begin her ensemble making. Just a prick, one little needle prick into Trixie's blue skin, and the red blood began to drip out. When Rarity saw it, she snapped. For no apparent reason, she had magically lifted her sewing needle and sealed Trixie's lips forever. She immediately proceeded to magically lift her sewing machine and bash Trixie on the head, snapping her horn and knocking her unconscious. As Rarity calmed down, her psychotic behavior did not diminish. She calmly used a pair of scissors to slash Trixie's throat open. The gushing blood sent chills down her spine – she lost all control again and began to rip Trixie to shreds, her skin becoming a shredded piece of wet red and blue cloth. After realizing what she had done, Rarity panicked. She had to clean this up – but how?

She had put the shredded remains of Trixie into a leather bag that was sitting on her workbench, barely large enough to hold her.

"If her ego was tangible I'd need four bags," Rarity thought to herself; then she took the bag and left behind a note that read:

Dear Twilight,

I know we were supposed to see each other today, but I've

gone in search of a pearl I need to finish an ensemble. I hope

you don't mind, it's very important.

Yours Truly,

Rarity

She then departed for the lake. Her first crime, never to be known.

From that day on her blood lust was insatiable. It had been nearly two years now, and still she could not shake the habit. Her technique had improved by leaps and bounds in that time, and she was proud of that – to be a master of her craft.

"Maybe my cutie mark should have been a knife." She laughed as she said it, even though it was a half-serious comment. Rarity knew she would need to kill again, but she had no idea how close to home her next victim would be.


End file.
